The End of Summer and Other Stories
by Sky-Pirate-Tat
Summary: A collection of Gravity Falls one-shots.
1. Chapter 1

"Hey, Kid, can you -"

Stan caught himself, and grumbled. He kept forgetting that Dipper wasn't there to order around and hoped that Wendy was too busy texting to see him accidentally talking to himself. (She'd seen him, but she was trying to get out of work. She would tease him about it later.)

"Soos! I need to you hang up these signs!" he yelled upstairs, assuming the handyman was there.

"You sent Soos out to get us burritos, remember?" Wendy commented and then slapped a hand over her mouth, realizing she had blown her cover.

"Then you can hang the signs," Stan said pointedly, shoving the hammer and boards in her arms before she could make excuses.

Wendy rolled her eyes in resignation and stomped outside, leaving Stan alone in the shack. He stood there in the middle of the gift shop, the air static and silent, just as he had always wanted ever since Dipper and Mabel were dropped on his doorstep.

"Ah. Peace and quiet." He breathed in deeply, smiling smugly to himself. "I guess I'll. . . I don't know. Clean up."

Idly he straightened out the Stan bobbleheads and the t-shirt rack, and without thinking too deeply on it, turned on the old radio that only picked up what Dipper called the "lame channels." The static kept cutting into Dean Martin's voice, and that had never bothered him before, but somehow turning on the radio made everything quieter. Ten minutes after turning it on, he turned the dial back, silencing the static and Ella Fitzgerald. He surveyed the room and trudged into the house section of the shack, making a stop in the kitchen.

He paused himself in the middle of opening the fridge, preparing himself for disappointment. The kids always drank all his soda, even when he asked them to save just _one _Pitt Cola.

He was taken aback that there were still two full cases in the fridge and rubbed his eyes. Then his arms went slack, hit again with the fact that Dipper and Mabel were not there. It strangely stung that his soda was untouched and all his.

"It's all mine," he reminded himself, taking a can out of the fridge.

The two extra kitchen chairs were still parked by the table, one holding a half-eaten bag of gummy koalas. He didn't question himself when he wrapped it up nice and tight with a rubber band. Mabel would be heartbroken if she found out he threw away her candy- even if it was a year old. That is, if he watched the kids next summer.

Stan leaned back in his seat, reeling with the realization that he missed them. It wasn't supposed to be like this. He was supposed to be happy to have his home completely to himself. He never minded being alone before, and didn't even want the kids in the first place until their parents paid him three hundred dollars. The kids had been noisy, obnoxious, and the cause of many headaches. They even intervened with his plans, especially Dipper, who was talented at sticking his nose where he shouldn't. Stan had also just finished the repairs on the windows Mabel had damaged with her grappling hook. And it was nice to not be woken up in the middle of the night by twin shenanigans

Stan scratched his butt and migrated to the living room. "What I need is television to disconnect me from reality." But that too, made him miss the kids, who used to sit cross-legged on the floor beside him.

Summer had ended, and it hit him harder than he had expected. He decided to offer to watch the kids again next summer. Maybe he wouldn't charge this time... but not without haggling about it first.


	2. Chapter 2

"Blargh. No thanks."

Gideon frowned. "What is it? Your family? Rest assured, I can take care of them."

Mabel glared. "Gideon, you're a creep. The only one getting in your way is- is yourself!" Her hand rested on the door handle, ready to slam it like a trap.

"Would you make a li'l ole exception if I was. . . a vampire?"

Gideon smiled, revealing sharp eyeteeth. His red eyes gleamed, confident that Mabel would say yes. Tracking the books she checked out from the library was one of his greater plans (and for the record: not creepy).

Mabel's frown shifted and Gideon was on the edge of his li'l ole seat.

"Give me a break. You don't even sparkle."

Her eyes narrowed and she slammed the door in his face, ignoring Gideon's pleas and promises that he could sparkle for her.

Dipper looked up from his book. He had lost track of what he was reading a long time ago, keeping an eye on his sister. "Do you need me to get the broom?"

Mabel patted Dipper's head. "No. Just a lot a garlic bread. Oooh! And bread sticks! Let's order pizza!"


	3. Chapter 3

"Aren't we like, too old to be wearing costumes?" Pacifica said, holding up the Musketeer costume, raising a brow.

Dipper pointed to Mabel, who smiled widely. She clutched a scrapbook to her chest; it had 'Summerween memories with Dip and Paz' written in pretty pink cursive on the cover.

"Age is just a number," Mabel reassured. Pacifica though her mom would challenge that statement. She was only twenty and her mom was already pressuring her to get a facelift.

Pacifica removed the hanger and handed it to Dipper. "Whatever. Just don't expect me going door to door for hand-outs."

"You mean 'trick or treating'?"

"Uh, like yeah. That thing," Pacifica said, rolling her eyes, hoping they didn't figure out she was only bluffing. She didn't have a clue about Summerween.


	4. Chapter 4

Dipper cannot remember the last time he lay awake at night, staring at the ceiling, impatient to fall asleep.

It started after Mabel's Sock Rock Opera. He had started falling asleep as soon as his head touch the pillow. He thought that was a blessing, until the air in his dreams turned acrid and tasted like burning plastic. Until a large singular eye lit up the darkness, illuminating over Dipper like a spotlight.

No matter how many times it happened, no matter how much Dipper braced himself the demon was a step ahead of him, and always _always _sneaking up behind him. Dipper hated that.

At a certain point, Dipper accepted that Bill was always watching, and even if his head was full of nightmares at least he was finally sleeping.

It only became a problem when he nodded off while sweeping the gift shop of the Mystery Shack. It got worse when he passed out in increasing increments.

Dipper cannot remember the last time he was awake, he's not sure what is real anymore but Bill tells him reality is an illusion. That he's finally where he belongs.


	5. Chapter 5

It is not dark enough in Dipper's room, and that leaves too much room for imagination. It's also not light enough either; the only light is from the hallway and it's too distant for his comfort. The light and the darkness work together to create shadows in his room, and his paranoia does the rest.

"Probably shouldn't have watched that movie," he says to himself, hoping nothing is there. He's just imagining things, right? That tall slender shadow is just his action figure, and no, his toys do not have a mind of their own. They can't just walk right up to his bed and knife him. That's crazy.

He considers throwing the covers over his head but isn't sure if that would be worse, to be unaware of his surroundings. His shoulders seize up, lightning running up his spine as he hears footsteps approach him. He peers over the covers and almost screams. Almost. Mabel knocks the wind out of him when she pounces. Her crooked smile eases his nerves and he laughs awkwardly. "It's just you."

"Not just Mabel." She narrows her eyes, pretending to be serious. She pulls out one of her stuffed animals, a rabbit with soft frayed ears. "Hoppity, too." She impulsively rubs Hoppity's ears against her cheek, and then, invites herself under the covers next to him. "I'm scared," she explains, and Dipper forgets his own fear, wrapping an arm around her protectively.

The looming shadows are ignored as they whisper under the covers. Their only worry is that their parents will find them still awake past ten. They talk about everything but the movie. Eventually, Mabel's words slur and the conversation drifts, a sign that she is falling asleep, Although she is only half-awake, he feels comfort in her presence.

He tries not to think about the movie, of objects moving on their own or eyes rolled in the back of that little girl's head, crawling backwards up the ceiling. He remembers the paralyzing fear he felt watching those scenes while Mabel laughed in the background. He still couldn't figure out what was so funny about it-

He reddens. "You weren't scared at all."

"Nope."


	6. Chapter 6

Mabel stared, wide-eyed, the barrel of the gun pressed against her temple. Gideon rolled the alphabetized dial of the gun, humming cheerily to himself.

"You have no one to blame but yourself, Sugarpie," he explained and she knew he was wrong. She squirmed against the rope tied tight on her wrists, cutting off circulation. Her hands were growing numb and her fingertips tingled. She itched to wrench the gun from his li'l ole hands.

"Please don't do this," she could only plead, unable to free herself, her grappling hook hanging on the waistband of Gideon's pants.

"You leave me no choice. It's the only thing in the way of _us_."

The gun hummed as it charged, electricity channeling into the bulbous end, and it felt like her brain was vibrating in her skull.

In bright luminous letters on the side, there was one word:

_Family_.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N**: Inspired by limey404's fanart.

"Da- aaaaaang, bro." Mabel waved her hand, fanning the air away from her nose. "You need a serious bath. You smell funky."

Dipper groaned in response, lifting his rotting stump arms uselessly.

"Don't give me that attitude, Mister Dipster." Mabel tugged on the lead, made out of a copper pipe and attached to the Huggy Wuvvy Tummy Bundle baby carrier. It had once been used to carry Waddles, until Dipper ate him. She still had trouble forgiving him for that. But he was her brother, even if he was terrible at conversations, smelled bad, and had a tendency to try to eat anyone in his vicinity.

"You're just going through a tough time, bro." Mabel nodded to herself, snorting. "Puberty!" Though it was nothing like that book Grunkle Stan read to her. Thankfully, she had blocked that memory out. She was getting good at that- hiding the truth from herself.

The truth was that she had lost her brother over a year ago. The truth was that she was all alone as the world fell apart around her. The truth was no matter how much she smiled, how hard she tried to joke about things, or how much she fought back, she could never go back. She held her old self as tightly as she gripped the lead to Dipper's corpse. Her knuckles were bone white.

As she tugged Dipper forward the last threads of the skin around his ear disintegrated into mush and the ear fell at her feet. She stared blankly at it, and then him, slowly grinning.

"It's a skin condition! No need to get self-conscious, bro-bro. There's a convenience store right there. I'll just. . ." She delicately picked up the ear, rancid and cold, writhing slightly from the maggots inside, chewing hungrily. "Nothin' a little glue, foundation, and skin cream can't fix."

She tucked the ear in the pocket of her skirt. Dipper followed her, dragging his feet, his legs awkwardly bent. His steps were slower than Mabel's and occasionally she had to stop and wait for him.

He would have done the same for her.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Wrote this the day after Not What He Seems came out.

X

Stan rarely got along with his brother, and their mother complained because there was hardly an ounce of peace in their tiny house.

They hated each other as much as siblings could, which meant that they loved each other, just enough, but boy did they get on each others' nerves. They shared a cramped room together, the bunk bed not helping with the space problems. Each night they fought over who got top bunk, despite that the top was dangerously close to the ceiling fan and at one point they had each been slapped in the face by a ceiling fan blade. It was the principle that mattered.

Stan never could sleep well when they shared a room, tossing and turning at the sound of his brother noisily turning the pages of his book as he tapped his pencil on the bunk bed ladder like he was practicing the drums or something.

Stan broke a lot of pencils in half as a result.

They were never really close, and grew even farther apart when the bullies at school became more aggressive. Neither of them stepped in to help the other, afraid to be the next punching bag in line. They understood their reasons completely, both cowards, but that didn't mean it didn't get to them. Stan was his brother, and vice versa. They should be looking out for each other, not ignoring the violence, waiting for it to stop, grateful it wasn't them.

The boxing lessons helped and as they grew up, their tormentors turned to drugs and girls for entertainment. His brother, bookish and not a troublemaker, graduated high school and finished one semester of college. Stan dropped out. He had to to flee arrest by going to Columbia. Not that that mattered; he found trouble in Columbia too and became a jailbird anyway.

When Stan returned to the States he didn't contact his brother, and his brother made no effort either. The few people who got to know either brother would be surprised he had a sibling, and a twin at that.

Psychologists and paranormal eccentrics said twins were special. Twins had a bond. Stan's brother wasn't very skeptic, but even he questioned that statement.

Stan could tell, when his brother did finally contact him, years later, that Stan was his last choice. If his brother hadn't offered a handsome sum, and if Stan wasn't living on hamburger buns, he wouldn't have taken the job.

It was obvious why he chose Stan. He didn't want to get his hands dirty, and who better than the twin with an arrest record in every state and two countries?

Stan was the only hired thug that his brother could trust. And that was putting it lightly. His brother trusted no one but himself.

Their relationship was still strained months after moving into his brother's cabin in Gravity Falls. Stan was given a room in the attic, far away from his brother's room downstairs. Stan didn't complain. In fact, he was grateful. He bet his brother still read loudly at night.

The job was hard, as expected, but he enjoyed it. It beat doing "honest" work, but he didn't have a clue why he was rummaging in the junkyard for mechanical parts, or why he was stealing radioactive waste from the government.

He asked several times. A soft grunt and shifty-eyed look was the only answer he received.

Fiddleford's lips were sealed tighter than a pickle jar too. When he asked Fiddleford, the color left his cheeks and he would tug nervously on the collar of his shirt. Whatever it was, it scared Fiddleford. Stan suspected the only reason why he had stayed on the project as long as he did was because he was worried about Stan's brother.

Now Fiddleford's mind was broken, he'd never speak. Stan still didn't know what the machine was, or exactly how to work it. But he did know how to put it back together. He had helped make it and he would do it again.

It was about time he started looking out for his brother.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Thanks for the reviews, everyone.

X

They already blew their allowance on candy and soda at the first rest stop. After using the restroom, there was no reason for them to loiter in the gas station. Mabel took this as an opportunity to run up and down the aisles while Dipper simply stretched. Three hours straight on a cramped bus was tough, even with a hearty stack of mystery novels and a bag full of yarn to keep them occupied.

Dipper's joints popped as he stretched and he stared warily at the bus, its doors open. He wasn't sure if he and Mabel could go another three hours.

"Dipper! Dippeeeer!" Mabel was running back to him, a pamphlet in her hand, waving her arms excitedly.

Dipper's first thought was that the bus was leaving without them, but Mabel's smile reassured him it wasn't that.

"Look what I found!"

"A half-eaten chocolate bar?"

Mabel looked a little forlorn at that. "If only. But check this! I found a tourist pamphlet from our Grunkle's place."

She waved it in Dipper's face and nearly gave him a papercut on the tip of his nose. Annoyed, Dipper snatched it away. He uncrumbled the piece of paper, smoothing it out between the palm of his hand and the top of the glass case of the ice cream freezer.

"Mystery Shack?" he asked, raising an eyebrow skeptically.

The front of the pamphlet showed a picture of the Mystery Shack. 'Shack' was the right word for it: letters were crooked, and the whole building look like it was on the verge of collapse. The only thing that looked sturdy in the photo was some bird totem pole planted in front of the Mystery Shack. The words "Believe it or believe it!" were printed garishly in big neon green letters over the front. Dipper licked his thumb and opened the three page pamphlet. Eyeballs in a jar, a sasquatch covered in feathers, and a mummified werewolf were pictured inside, along with a picture of a broken down go-cart A caption underneath read: "Guided tours!" using exactly that many unnecessary exclamation points.

"Aren't you excited? This is the kind of kooky stuff you're into." Mabel elbowed him. Dipper shot her a glare as he rubbed his elbow.

"I'll neither confirm or deny that. . ." Dipper said dryly. ". . .But doesn't this all seem sketchy? Our grand uncle can't possibly make money off this crap. How is he going to feed us?"

"With love and kindness. Duh, Dip!" Mabel joked, and then, "he's retired, right? This is probably his lifelong passion. . .?"

Dipper groaned. "I knew it. This summer is completely ruined. We don't know the first thing about. . ." Dipper glanced at the pamphlet, searching for a name.

". . .Stan?" Mabel helpfully offered, though she sounded unsure too. That is what their parents had called their relative before shipping them out of state, right?

"See. That's where I'm getting at- we don't even know his name!"

Mabel hooked an arm over Dipper's shoulder. "Course we don't. But I'm sure we'll learn lots about him! Even things we don't want to. That's what will be fun about it. We'll be fine. He loves us."

"How?" Dipper demanded, the stress of the bus ride and his entire summer being ripped away from him finally coming to a head. He appreciated Mabel's positivity, but sometimes it exhausted his patience. "How can he love us if he's never met us?"

It wasn't a question but Mabel provided an answer anyway. "Because we're family. And I'm adorable, and you're. . ." Mabel paused, then poked him on the nose. "You're a nerd."

Dipper swatted her finger away and crossed his arms, unconvinced.

Mabel snatched the pamphlet from Dipper's hand, folded it back up, then flipped it over. On the back was a small map with directions to the Mystery Shack, and below that, a picture of a man, possibly in his early sixties, wearing a square-shouldered suit slightly eaten up by mothballs, and a red fez hat. He held a cane in one hand, a crystal skull in the other, and wore his best used car salesman smile. Dipper wondered if the man would look more or less ridiculous if he wore the eye patch underneath the glasses rather than over them.

"He looks trustworthy," Mabel said, trying to reassure her brother. The photo of their relative did nothing to ease Dipper's nerves. Mabel frowned slightly, tucking the tourist pamphlet in her bag for her summer vacation scrapbook. She took Dipper's hand, smiling as she tugged on his arm, gentle yet earnest. "Hey, at least we have each other."

Dipper couldn't find an argument for that, not with that goofy smile she was giving him, gummy koalas stuck in her braces.

The bus honked a warning and they rushed out of the gas station, barely making it, the bus moving before they made it back to their seats at the back of the bus. The tourist pamphlet to the Mystery Shack was crumbled up in his vest pocket, though he didn't remember placing it there. He glanced at Mabel, assuming she had slipped it in there, and uncrumbled the pamphlet, giving the picture of their grand uncle a pensive look before shoving it back in his vest pocket.

He stared out the window, at the scenery whipping past, from concrete jungle to rural, then even more rural, with trees everywhere.

Dipper couldn't wait for this summer to end.


End file.
